


M.A.: Sana Pre-Story

by shizukopride



Category: Original Work
Genre: prestory, somewhat of an introduction to an actual story I'm working on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:33:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shizukopride/pseuds/shizukopride
Summary: A glimpse into Sana Kurimoto's life in a fictional universe of my own creation. Any more of a summary, and it'd be spoiling this pretty basic and short story.





	M.A.: Sana Pre-Story

The constant stares were one thing, and at most, easily diverted to cast attention instead upon the teacher at the front of the room. It was quite another to be passed notes, filled with crude, childish  drawings of nooses and what appeared to be a person set on fire – though why the artist had decided on mixing in a healthy dose of black to the picture was beyond her imagination. Sana Kurimoto frowned at the said note, wrinkling her nose in agitation. Wasn’t it enough to ostracize her from the rest of the class with mute glares? Apparently not, for she saw to her right another small folded-up piece of paper making its way down the row to her desk. As it dropped, she immediately reached her hand out and opened it.

**Your father’s just a big bully.**

_It’s your fault my daddy’s out of a job._

Why don’t you jump off the roof and give us all your dirtily-earned money?

She gave a sharp intake of breath, steeling herself from giving into the tears wanting to build up. Her saving grace was the chime of the bell announcing school had ended for the day. Wordlessly, all the other students gathered up their backpacks and materials and exited the room without sparing the lone, morose girl sitting quietly at her desk a sign of acknowledgement to her existence. Her teacher, for all her kindness, could only give her an encouraging but timid smile as she ushered the students out toward the entrance hall, ensuring no others were left behind or forgotten in the rush of little bodies eager to head home and enjoy the rest of the day. When the telltale sound of multiple footsteps echoing down the hallway had receded, Sana lifted herself up from her desk and painstakingly began to put her things away.

It wasn’t fair.

She had no control over what her father did in his business affairs. There was nothing she could say or do that would have any influence over him. In fact, her father carefully steered potential topics of business away from any conversations held within earshot of her. Sure, she had a rather lovely home to return to, which was saying more than some of the students of her class. She knew one boy lived in a dilapidated shack a few miles from the school – and he hiked that distance every day, no matter the weather.

And it wasn’t like she hadn’t asked to be transferred to a better school, even if it was farther away from home.

_“You needn’t worry,” her father had admonished her with a slow shake of his head dismissively. He had been sitting at his office desk in the study, pouring over multitudes of papers and other documents. There were pie graphs, linear charts, and other strange mathematical equations on some of the papers._

_She’d given her best pouting face. “Father, won’t you reconsider? I know I’ve been going to this school for a few years now, but I’m about to head to middle school. Can’t my last year be at a school where I actually belong?”_

_The answer she had been hoping to receive was not there. Instead, he had laughed. “My daughter, don’t you be holding some grand illusions. It’s easier and cheaper to send you there, not to mention it’s far closer, meaning you don’t need to worry about something happening to you. There’s no need to take that miserable excuse of public transportation either.”_

The conversation had soon died after that. While it was a shame, Sana couldn’t fault her father’s logical thought process, although she did wish he’d actually spend a decent amount of time with her. He’d told her several times that he was being stingy for the sake of a better future in this rotten, insipid world. What future he had envisioned was lost on her; she’d be happy enough having father-daughter time like other children had with their living parents.

Sana shook her head violently to overthrow that line of thinking. Wishful fulfillment would get her nowhere, not when her father wouldn’t even acknowledge such fairytale ideologies.  Lost in her thoughts, it took her a moment to realize she was standing in front of her home’s gate, staring off into space. Without hesitation, she continued on inside.

 

 

Dinner could have been called a deathbed vigil, and it would have rung true. Sana dragged her gaze from settling on her plate for the twentieth time, even as she half-heartedly pushed the food around in concentric circles. As she found the man across the table, separated by five feet of polished Cherrywood, she noticed he appeared to also be in a state of unfortunate circumstances. Rather than leaving them to their silence, broken only by her occasional scraping of her fork against the china, she attempted a polite clearing of her voice.

“Father…” she ventured, keeping her focus steady on him. He hardly showed recognition but rather continued to ingest a spoonful or forkful of food. Sana decided to continue breaking the heavy atmosphere that had draped across them without resistance. “I was wondering if we could perhaps go shopping or visit a nearby park this weekend?” His hand stopped. “I don’t mean the entire day!” she interjected quickly, inwardly bashing herself for having broached the topic in stumbling fashion. “Maybe for a few hours, so we could enjoy each other’s company?” Goodness, she sounded like some sort of spokesperson. This was her flesh-and-blood father she was speaking to!

“Oh?” He set his fork down with the elegance of a man who commended respect from everyone around him. “I suppose, should all go smoothly as I would like.”

Sana’s face burst into a grin, and she had trouble keeping herself from jumping up and running over to give him a hug of joy. She could celebrate this victory later in the confines of her own room. “Thank you, Father!” she crowed, putting renewed vigor into finishing her dinner.

 

 

That night, Sana had had trouble quieting down to sleep. As she lay in her bed, smiling up at the ceiling as her thoughts raced toward Saturday’s activities, she heard the softest of thunks – something heavy falling over. Puzzled, for no one but her father and herself lived in the house, and neither were a careless klutz, she sat up and wondered if she should investigate. Hesitant for the reason of not wanting her father to catch her out of bed at such a late hour of the night with school tomorrow, she crossed her arms and inclined an ear to what lurked outside her closed bedroom door.

Minutes passed without incident.

Sana frowned, not entirely convinced by the logical thought that she had simply imagined the noise, perhaps in too excitable a mood to properly rest. Just as she mused about “needing” to use the bathroom, she heard another thunk. It was softer this time but still distinct. There was no imagining it.

Her feet hit the carpeted floor without a sound. Thankful that her footsteps were muffled by it, she approached her door and quietly turned the knob, peeking out beyond it into the hallway. With no sign of her father or – warily – of another, suspicious individual, she moved out into the hallway toward her father’s room. Despite it being late spring, it seemed unseasonably cool in the hallway. Well, she couldn’t turn back now for a jacket or socks to cover her bare skin. It was a small walk anyway, and checking rooms along the way resulted in nothing amiss.

As she neared her father’s room, she felt the slightest of breezes escaping beneath the door.

Confusion bloomed upon her face. While her father had a nice balcony he sometimes retreated to, there was no reason for him to be out there so late at night. He awoke early on most days and was gone before she was ready to head to school. Why on earth would he be out there now?

Knuckles rapped on the door. “Father…?”

No answer.

A knock for the second time. “Father, I’m coming in. I apologize…”

Sana grabbed the doorknob and turned it slowly, easing herself into the entrance to her father’s room. She first glanced toward the balcony, where sure enough, one of the tall glass doors was open, curtains swaying in the late-night cool breeze. However, he wasn’t out there. Was he in bed and she’d just been silly in thinking he was in any sort of danger?

“Father?” she called out to the emptiness of the dark room save for the moonlight trailing in through the windows and glass doors. With caution, she made her way toward his bed, rounding it to assuage her fear.

The sight of a noticeably dead body on the floor at the foot of the bed with a man dressed in a black coat-tailed suit sent her falling backwards in sheer panic. “N-No… no…” Her lungs struggled for precious air as her brain strained to recognize the scene before her.

The man, who had had his back turned to her, stood up, a flash of light bouncing off the surface of the knife he held in his gloved hand. He swiveled to face her with the fluidity of a graceful ballerina, but what features she might have hoped to see were obscured by the mask he wore. It appeared frozen in a cold and calculating look, the permanent smile an insult to the suffering he was causing at that very moment. His eyes behind the mask, however, held an orangeish hue to them, vivid and aware.

Unable to will her body to move even as the adrenaline of fight-or-flight mode overtook all rationality, Sana could do nothing as the man stared her down. When the seconds ticked by, and she was assured she was his next victim, the man in question merely tilted his head to the side in a questioning motion. In the next instant, his demeanor lessened, the intimidating aura surrounding him dissipating.

“Have no fear,” he intoned, his voice tuned to that of an actor in the midst of his role on the stage, “for the tyranny of your patriarch has vanished, bleeding into silence.” He appraised her momentarily again whilst he slipped the bloody blade into a sheath located near his hip. “May fortune’s grace stay you off the same path.”

Sana blinked.

What?

But as she registered his strange words, the man had moved to the balcony, and from there, disappeared into the darkness of the night outside the confines of her home in agile fashion.

Shaking even though her heartbeat had resumed a slower tempo, she forced her body to move toward her father, ignoring the spreading pool of blood that was painting the hardwood floor below him an ugly crimson. Next to his head, tucked conspicuously so as to be seen (and seemed to have been put there intentionally and with great care) was a small card. Sana picked it up, turning it over. On the back was written just one sentence:

**Jiro of Murderers Anonymous thanks you for your sacrifice for the greater good.**


End file.
